


Baby Got Back

by SandWitch42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 08:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandWitch42/pseuds/SandWitch42
Summary: Finally able to take that vacation to the beach Dean promised, the brothers drive down to Destin, Florida. But they're joined by a third wheel neither of them expect: someone who used to have four wheels. Can they figure out how to turn Baby back into a car and still manage to enjoy the vacation they deserve?





	Baby Got Back

A black, 1967 Chevrolet Impala eases slowly along Highway 98 through Destin, Florida. Heavy tourist traffic keeps everyone from reaching the speed limit. The sun has been down for a few hours, but bright lights from the strip illuminate Sam and Dean and the interior of their car. Dean concentrates on the road while Sam lounges back and eyes the rows of eateries and tourist shops as they creep along. Dean reaches down to turn on the music. Jimmy Buffett's "Margaritaville" fills the car as his hand returns to the steering wheel.

Sam looks down at the radio and over at his brother. "Really?"

Dean barely cuts his eyes to Sam. "Shut up," he replies. "It's beachy. We said we'd go the beach one day, and dammit, we're gonna have the whole experience. We're almost to our crap hotel, we're gonna have sand between our toes, and yes, we are listening to Buffett." He glances at Sam. "Y'know, he don't like disco either."

A confused, yet partially amused, expression fills Sam's face as he lets out a slight exhale that's almost a snicker, "And how would you know that?"

"'Morris' Nightmare'? No disco?"

Sam contemplates his brother for a silent moment. "You're telling me you're familiar with his musi-"

"Speaking of crap hotels," Dean loudly interrupts, "We should be getting to ours soon, right?"

Sam gives in to the topic change and confers with the GPS on his phone. "If by 'soon' you're comparing it to the hours we've already been on the road. It's not far, but with this traffic, we still have another twenty minutes." He leans back again and looks out the window. They pass a Mellow Mushroom. Alvin's Island. "It's going to be nice to relax for a while."

A liquor store. Tropical Waves.

"Don't I know it?" Dean grins at Sam as he leans forward to admire the Grand Mariner condos they are passing. Sam shifts his gaze to the other side of the road, still picking out the names of businesses. "And, Sammy, you know I've been wanting this vacation with you for a while." He reaches forward to rub on the dashboard. Genie's Gifts. Go-karts and mini golf. "But I sure do wish Baby could be in a tight little bathing suit and out on the beach with us."

Sam allows himself a half smile and looks at his phone again. "I'm sure you do."

 

.oOo.

 

A sliver of early morning sunlight reaches across a dark blue carpet from curtains that hadn't been fully drawn over the south-facing plate glass door. Sam is sprawled in his bed, long hair in disarray above his white v-neck t-shirt. His blanket covers him to his waist aside from one bare foot sticking out.  _Ssshink!_  Dean opens the curtains with a grand motion and settles his hands on his hips as he takes in the scenery. His black t-shirt clashes with the green swimming trunks splashed with large, white hibiscus flowers.

The widening of the curtains spreads the sunlight across Sam's face, waking him. He throws the back of his left hand to his eyes, shielding them from the sudden onslaught of light, and lifts his head, squinting at Dean's silhouette at the window. He drops back with a slight groan.

"Dean, what the hell? Since when are you ever up before me?"

Dean doesn't answer. It takes a moment for this to register to Sam. He lowers his arm and blinks at Dean's back. After a minute, he sweeps the blanket back and swings his feet to the floor. His black sleeping pants, which had ridden up almost to his knees as he slept, shift back down to his ankles as he stands up and quietly pads across the lush carpet to join his brother at the window. The sun hasn't finished rising. A blush of pink and orange fans across the sky from the east, spreading fingers of color through wisps of clouds until darkening to the edge of blue to the west. Under it all is an undisturbed view of sugar white sand and lines of emerald and turquoise water. The surf is gentle this morning, small waves of foam lapping the sand as the tide rises.

"So..." Dean's voice is hushed. "This is it."

Sam nods silently. He, too, is taken by the beauty of the coast. They stand at the door for several more minutes before Dean breaks the spell with a clap of his hands. "Alright!" He turns to Sam with a sparkle in his light green eyes and a pleased grin. "We need breakfast and supplies. Towels, sunscreen, maybe a frisbee. I'll go pick that up while you get dressed." As he talks, he walks across to the other side of the room, grabbing his keys from the tv stand, and opens the north-facing front door. He stops in his tracks, the smile fading from his face. "Sammy?"

Sam, who had turned back to face the beach, looks over his shoulder. "What?"

"Where the hell is my car?"

" _What?_ "

"Where.  _The hell._  Is my  _car?_  I parked right here in front of this door!" Dean steps out to the walkway that separates the rooms from the parking lot, casting his eyes from one end of the lot to the other and coming back to the empty space before him. "No. NO! Dammit!"

"Good mornin', Dean." A deep voice whips Dean around to face the bench next to his hotel room door. There sits a very large, physically imposing man. His chocolaty skin bulges with muscles. Slightly squinted dark brown eyes regard him over a broad nose and friendly smile. There doesn't appear to be any hair on him aside from his eyebrows and lashes, though with the fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, it is hard to be certain. The stranger gestures to a large wagon sitting next to the bench and speaks again with his bass timbre. "I got us some things I thought you'd want. Cooler o' beer. Towels. Foldin' beach chairs. Doughnuts and coffee for breakfast." He leans forward, pressing his forearms to the towel across his thighs, to get a better look at Sam, who has appeared in the doorway. "Even got a green smoothie for our healthy boy over there."

 

Defensive and angry, Dean flexes his hands. "Who the hell are you?"

The stranger's smile deepens as he straightens back up to look again at Dean. "I don't s'ppose I really have a name. You've just always called me Baby."

Dean shares an incredulous look with Sam before addressing the stranger again, "I  _what_?"

"Oh, well, maybe not always. Not when you was a kid. But when your daddy passed my keys along to you, our relationship... changed, don'cha think?" Thick arms cross over his bare chest as he leans back against the brick of the hotel wall. His eyes hold Dean's. "In fact, I sure do 'ppreciate all them times I prob'ly coulda been left as a scrap heap, but you cared enough to put me back together. You cared, Dean, and it showed."

"You..." Dean exhales deeply and scrubs a hand down his mouth and chin as he processes what he's hearing. Another quick glance at Sam shows his brother is just as confused as he is. Dean shakes his head and looks down. "Man, we have been through some weird stuff." He looks to the dark stranger again, "But this about takes it for me."

He's rewarded for his acceptance with a booming chuckle as the stranger lifts to his feet. Both brothers widen their eyes as the top of the man's head rises above Sam's by an inch or two.

"That's new," Sam croaks. He clears his throat and steals a glance at Dean.

The stranger doesn't seem to hear him. He reaches down with an enormous hand to grasp the handle of the wagon. "Seems to me the easiest way to beach access is through your room. Let's get to it, then." He steps toward the door. Sam moves out of the doorway, closer to Dean, both of them still staring at the impressive height and bulk of this man, this... Baby as he saunters into the hotel room, pulling the wagon stuffed with beach supplies behind him. With the other hand, he whips the towel from around his waist and tosses it over his shoulder, revealing a vivid red Speedo clinging tightly to his muscled bottom.

Dean grips Sam's forearm as though stopping him, though Sam has made no move to follow the man. "What the hell is going on here, Sam?" His jaw clenches. "That's not how I pictured my Baby."

"Dean." Sam takes a breath and sighs. "I don't know, man. But your car turns human, and what bothers you is that he's not how you pictured him?"

"Her, Sammy. My car is  _not_  supposed to be a  _dude_."

Sam uses his free arm to indicate the towering figure opening then walking through the sliding glass door on the other end of the hotel room. "I would think he begs to differ. Anyway, don't you think we need to find out how this happened?"

Dean releases his hold on Sam's arm. "You booked this room for a week, right?" Sam nods. "Then I'll be damned if I'm going to waste the entire week on research. Obviously, this is a job. But no one's dying, and we have a vacation in front of us. I am going to enjoy myself, and then we can figure out what happened."

Sam's lips tighten, and he nods again. Dean nods with him this time, "Yeah. Okay." He seems to be talking inwardly, steeling himself before heading through the hotel room. Sam follows, closing the front door behind him.

"By the way," Dean rounds on Sam, spreading his arms wide, taking in the decor of the room. "We were supposed to be in a crap hotel. This," he gestures again, "Is not crap. Real carpet, not peel-and-stick. Actual paintings instead of prints. Sammy," He drops his arms. "We're beach front."

Sam finds his smile again. "Go find Baby. I'm going to change."

Dean shifts uncomfortably. "I never let you call her -him- that before. This is freaking weird, dude." With that, he pulls the black shirt off, crumples it into a ball, and throws it onto his bed before stalking out the still open glass door, following the wagon tracks.

Dean spots Baby well before he catches up. He shakes his head as he treks across the expanse of soft sand. He wants time to think, but Baby has already stopped and is pulling the third beach chair from it's sleeve to set up a spot near the water when Dean joins him. Dean opens his mouth, closes it in hesitation, then finally speaks. "I can't keep calling you Baby," he says bluntly.

Baby tucks the chair sleeve back into the wagon and straightens, giving Dean a blank face. "Why not?"

"Well... I..." Dean stammers. "It's just... come on, man. I've never even called any of my ladies Baby."

"I know."

"And, well..." Dean falters under the direct stare. "You're... and I'm..."

Baby gives the impression of looming forward without moving. "Dean, I'mma say this one time. You're gonna call me the same thing you've been callin' me all these years. S'what I'm used to hearin'. S'what I answer to. I'm your Baby. Got it?"

Dean blinks, swallows, "Y-yeah. I got it. ... Baby."

Baby's face brightens with a wide smile. "Good." His eyes look beyond Dean's shoulder. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, uh, Baby," Sam's voice trips over the name. "Dean."

"Sam." Dean sounds surly.

"So, where's that smoothie?"

Baby reaches into the wagon with both hands. One hand grasps the green smoothie, which he gives to Sam. The other hand holds a bottle of sunscreen. He pops it open. "Now, I'm in the sunshine all the time, so I don't really need this." He squirts a large dollop into his palm and tosses the bottle back into the wagon before rubbing his hands together. "But you, Dean." Dean's eyes widen. "You need to turn around so I can get your back. You look like your skin ain't never seen the sun shine on it. We don't need you bakin' on your first day of vacation. I said turn around."

Dean shuffles in a 180 to face Sam who has shifted his own face away and down to hide his amused grin behind a fall of hair. The gentle shake of his shoulders gives away his muted laughter. "Shut up," Dean demands. Warm, gooey hands smear down his shoulders and back. Dean stiffens as Baby massages the lotion into his skin. "Can we, um, find someone else to do this next time? Maybe one of these hot chicks out here?" Dean motions with his chin toward a group of sun-kissed women in bikinis laying their towels out on the sand and does a double take as he realizes Sam is already walking toward them with the bottle of lotion in hand.  _Son of a bitch,_  Dean thinks.

Sam's white swimming trunks contrast with skin already naturally darker than Dean's, but Dean grudgingly admits to himself that Baby is right; they both need sunscreen if they don't want to ruin the vacation on the first day. Five women cluster around Sam as Dean watches, and in no time at all, they're working their lotion-filled hands along Sam's exposed skin. He shoots a triumphant expression to Dean. Dean bares his teeth in a sarcastic smile which only serves to broaden Sam's grin.

"That's it, then," Baby says, removing his hands from Dean's back. "All rubbed in. You want me to do your front?" Dean steps quickly away from Baby.

"No. No, I do not want you to  _do my front._  I will  _do my front._ " He looks back over at Sam, still swarmed with women. "As soon as my brother brings the lotion back."

 

.oOo.

 

The next five days are filled with sun, sand, and salt water, punctuated with Baby insisting upon rubbing lotion onto Dean's back so he won't get sunburned. Somehow, Sam always manages to find an attractive woman or three to help him out, and he never has to finish his own arms, legs, face, or front while a giant, over-protective Baby watches over him to make sure he doesn't miss any spots. When the three of them aren't swimming or throwing a frisbee on the beach, sitting in the sun with the cooler of beer or actually building their first real sand castle ("I don't care how old you are Dean, you ain't never been to the beach before, and you need to build yourself a sand castle."), they're walking along the shops of Destin, amusing themselves in gift shops, finding clothes to fit Baby, and seeking new places to eat with each meal. By the fifth day, Dean is beginning to get used to the idea of Baby tagging along, if not calling him by the pet name he so lovingly used when Baby was still a car.

Walking out of Hooters that evening, they start the journey back to the hotel room. Sam shakes his head. "Man, I can't believe you ate that many wings. You ate more than Baby."

"What makes you think I'd eat more than Dean?" the large man rumbles.

"Uh, no reason." Sam raises his eyebrows in a  _help me out_  expression while Dean smirks and very pointedly looks away from Sam, toward the Grand Mariner condos across the street. They are getting close to their hotel.

Getting no help from his brother, Sam wheels around, sticks his hands in his pockets, and walks backwards, looking up at the sky. The sun is still setting. Streaks of pink, orange, purple, and dark blue cut across the sky. "The sunrises and sunsets here sure are pretty."

Baby glances over his shoulder at the edge of the sun still peeking over the buildings, "Sunrises an' sunsets are always pretty, no matter where we are. Thing is, I don't think you boys ever really notice 'em. You're us'ally so busy discussin' your jobs," he pauses. "Or fightin'," he finishes the thought quietly then picks up his voice again, "But you just need to look to the sky more often. You'll see."

Dean, not feeling particularly manly with this talk of pretty things after having Baby's hands massaging all over his back for the better part of a week, returns the conversation to food. "What was that, though? Four baskets? Not bad for someone who usually eats cheeseburgers." Dean rubs his stomach. "Still," he says, "I wish I had saved room for dessert. They had Key Lime Pie." Dean's step falters for a moment, then he continues walking. Sam eyes him curiously, but Dean refuses to acknowledge his questioning look, making up for the lost step by increasing his pace.

That night, Dean lays abed next to Baby, staring up at the ceiling. Sam is comfortably spread across his own bed, his long limbs effectively covering the entirety of the queen size mattress. For such a large man, Baby takes up a surprisingly small amount of space. He is certainly not the spread eagler Sam is, and for that, Dean is grateful since he has been sharing a bed with Baby since he arrived. Baby does snore, however, and it sounds suspiciously similar to the rumble of the Impala's engine. Dean misses his car. And something happened tonight that makes him think it might be time to start looking into why he's sleeping next to a six and a half foot tall hairless mountain.

Sliding silently out of the bed, Dean opens and reaches into Sam's computer bag, pulling out the laptop. He sets up at a table near the glass door, putting his back to the door so the light of the screen doesn't bother his sleeping brother and... car. Dean shakes his head, bringing one hand up to pinch his finger and thumb across his eyes to the bridge of his nose. He then settles his hands to the keyboard and starts searching for everything he can find on the Grand Mariner condos.

The sound of tapping reaches into Sam's mind. Research. Have to find it. Figure it out. Figure what out? What's the case? He pushes through the cobwebs of sleep and opens his eyes. He isn't working a case; that was a dream. But what...? The tapping continues. Sam shifts around to see Dean's face across the room, illuminated by the laptop screen. Baby is still snoring blissfully in the other bed. Sam stretches and picks himself up out of bed to join Dean at the table.

"Hey."

"I think I got it," Dean says softly. "But I can't find anything that tells me why." He scrolls down the page he's reading.

"Got what?" Sam asks, stiffling a yawn.

"It was me, Sam. I made Baby turn into a human. On our way in, when we were driving past the Grand Mariner condos, I wished Baby could get out on the beach with us..." he pauses with a shudder. "In a tight little bathing suit."

"Okay."

"And then tonight, I wished I had saved room for dessert. Just like that, I had room. I was ready for some pie. Right across the street from the Grand Mariner condos. It has to be connected to those buildings somehow. I just can't find anything. Yet." Dean continues to scroll and read.

Sam sits down, thinking about the drive and the walk to the hotel. His eyes dart across the table top as though he's seeing inside his own head. A few quiet minutes pass, filled only with the sounds of Baby's engine-like snoring and Dean's fingers tapping at the keyboard. "It's not."

"Hm?"

"It's not the condos. Give me that." Sam spins the laptop away from Dean and toward himself, opening a new tab and typing rapidly. "On our way in, yes, we passed by the Grand Mariner condos, but that's not all we passed." He spins the laptop back to Dean, showing him the home page of Genie's Gifts. "Right across the street from the condos. You were directly in front of this building when your wish came true  _while you were rubbing your belly like a lamp_. You rubbed the car too, didn't you? When you made your wish?"

"He did." Baby's deep voice makes the brothers jump. They had been so engrossed in their conversation, neither noticed Baby had stopped snoring.

"So we need to find out what we can about this store," Dean says.

Sam nods, "Their page says they open at nine... What are we going to wear? The Fed suits were in the trunk."

Dean lifts an eye brow then shrugs, "I guess we'll just have to figure that out in the morning. Let's hit it for now."

The next morning, Baby is the first one awake. He's standing just outside the open glass door, breathing in the salty air when Dean stirs and sits up. Between Dean's bed and the door is the table where he and Sam had been sitting the night before. On the table sit two suits he recognizes as theirs.

"Baby?" Baby turns his head to acknowledge he hears Dean, but he doesn't speak.

"Where'd you find the suits?"

Baby faces the ocean again. "I'd rather not talk about it."

The trio take their time with showers, knowing they don't need to be out the door terribly early. While Baby is taking his turn, Sam and Dean sit on the ends of their respective beds in their shirt sleeves and under shorts to discuss the suits still sitting on the table.

"So he wouldn't say?" Sam asks.

"No, man, but he got them from somewhere. They're definitely ours." Dean glances over his shoulder toward the closed bathroom door as though to confirm the shower is still running. "But I'm not putting that on until it gets washed."

"You know, we don't even have to be Feds for this anyway," Sam suggests. "Why would we? We're not investigating a crime. No one's missing, and like you said, no one's dead. We can just go in as what we are." The shower stops. "Tourists."

Dean nods, "Baby doesn't have a suit anyway."

"Exactly, plus it's hot here."

"Perfect. No suits."

The brothers are dressed in their normal relaxed-fitting jeans, but with t-shirts instead of their typical layers of flannel, when Baby emerges from the bathroom in a wash of steam, wrapped in a towel. He halts as he notices the clothes. His eyes flick to the suits still laying on the table and back to Sam and Dean.

"We didn't want you to feel out of place," Sam offers quickly. "Since you only have jeans and t-shirts, we figured we'd wear them too."

Baby nods slowly and retrieves his own clothes from the drawer under the tv stand. Without a word, he returns to the bathroom. The brothers exchange glances. "I think he's pissed," Dean mutters.

"Well, wouldn't you be?" Sam asks. "If you pulled suits out of your -"

"And I'll be waiting outside." Dean strides purposefully toward the door and makes good with his word, shutting himself outside to wait for Sam and Baby.

 

.oOo.

 

Genie's Gifts is a small, unassuming stand-alone building. With the sprawling mass of the go-kart track, mini golf, bumper rides, and who knows what else dominating the immense lot beside it, it's a wonder Sam even saw it to begin with. A hand-painted sign hangs above the front awning. Purple letters swirl like smoke out of an Aladdin-style brass lamp. As they near the building, Sam sees the paint is chipped and peeling.  _So this store has been here a while,_ he notes. He lets Dean take the lead, as per usual, and places his hand on the door to hold it wide after Dean opens it and steps inside to the gentle cling of a bell. Baby takes up the rear, also holding the door for himself as Sam walks in. He seems to have gotten past his earlier annoyance over the suits. They file through the doorway like stair steps, each man slightly taller and wider than the one before him.

"It must be my lucky day," a voice purrs as the door closes behind Baby with another jingle of a bell. Three pairs of eyes, two green, one brown, swing to the owner of the voice. A beautiful raven-haired woman with piercing, pale blue eyes smiles slyly as she leans forward on her hands from behind the glass display counter and drinks them each in from head to toe.

The backs of Dean's fingers tap Sam's arm, "I got this; you look around." Sam looks to Dean, ready to argue, but Dean has already put on his charming smile and is swaggering to the counter.

"There he goes again," Baby murmurs as he watches Dean cross the space between door and counter. He turns to Sam who looks up at him then tilts his head in the opposite direction, inviting Baby to peruse the store with him as Dean flirts.

"Hey there," Dean gives his eyebrows a quick lift as his gaze dips down into the cleavage the woman is brazenly displaying from the top of her scoop-neck, dried blood red tank top as she continues to lean forward on the counter. Beaded necklaces grace her upper chest, and a sharply cut chunk of white quartz hangs from a cord, pointing directly where Dean is already looking. She presses one hand harder against the counter, slightly shifting her body to standing a little more upright, and lifts the other hand to slowly drag her finger tips along the beads of her necklaces and up to her ear where she tucks back a few stray locks. Dean's eyes obediently follow, and she captures his gaze with hers.

"Hi." Her lips curl upward a bit more, "Welcome to my shop."

"Oh, I feel very welcome." Dean presses his hip against the counter then leans down on his elbow and forearm to lower his height to match that of the woman and to close the distance between them. He traces a finger from her elbow to shoulder and back again, not quite touching her skin. "How is it that you live in Florida, right here next to the beach, yet you look like you're made of porcelain?"

The woman's laugh reaches Sam and Baby on the other side of the store.

"He seems to be doin' well," Baby rumbles. "What is it we're supposed to be findin', Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam sighs, flicking one of many beaded curtains hanging on the wall. "Something enchanted? Magical? Something that will grant wishes from a distance. It's probably not going to be out for sale on one of these shelves, though." Sam critically eyes the circular rack filled with tie-dye shirts topped with a sign proclaiming them to be all hand-dyed.

"No, I don't suppose so," Baby agrees. He stops to admire a display of painted tin wind chimes hanging with butterflies, mushrooms, peace signs, and the like. He pokes one with a thick finger and listens until it stops ringing. "That's nice." Wrapping his hand around a post of the display, he gives the entire thing a firm shake, setting all of them off at once. Sam reaches forward as though to make it stop, then waffles his hands, turns them to fists, and puts them down to his sides as it's obvious there's nothing he can do. The noise draws the attention of Dean and the woman.

 _Sorry,_  Sam mouths and directs Baby's attention to a tiered shelf filled with rainbow-colored hand dipped candles, cut into intricate ribbons.

Dean turns his attention back to the woman, and as he does so, his eyes grace across a small plaque on the counter top. "'Whatever you wish...'" he reads.

"Mmhmm," the woman replies. "It's sort of a theme here. Genies and wishes, you know. Most people who come in here typically claim they're shopping for someone else. I like to think giving gifts isn't much different than granting wishes." As she talks, Dean looks down through the glass and examines the contents of the display case upon which he's leaning. He smirks. "Quite a collection of pipes and bongs. I suppose they're 'for tobacco use only'?"

"And the one item people most insist are gifts," the woman says with another laugh.

"I'll bet." Dean pushes back from the counter and kneels down in front of it. Tucked in a back corner, hidden behind a glass hookah, is an old brass piece he can't identify. It's small, pierced with scrollwork. A tiny hinge near the top shows it is a container of some sort. A container with holes in it? "What's that?"

She looks down. "What?"

"That," Dean points, back in the corner. "The brass one."

"Oh, that's a, um, an incense burner."

Dean's eyes roll up toward to woman. She doesn't seem as self-assured as she had a moment ago. "An incense burner," he repeats. "How much?"

"It's not for sale," she answers quickly.

"No?" Dean unfolds his height and stands before the counter. "Why not? It's in the display case."

"Family heirloom," the woman recovers herself and gracefully folds her arms under her breasts, pushing them up ever so slightly. The purr is back in her voice. "I keep it in there just to... show it off."

Dean doesn't take the bait. His eyes stay on her face, "Is that so? Or do you keep it in this locked cabinet, right under your eye, so you know where it is at all times? Because it's more than just an heirloom?"

The woman's eyes dart behind Dean. Sam and Baby are approaching. She nervously licks her lips. "It is..." she insists feebly, arms slowly lowering to her sides. Dean crosses his own arms and adopts a condescending expression. Sam steps forward.

"Miss, we just need a straight answer." He points down at the display case, though he has only heard a fraction of the conversation and doesn't know what piece his brother and this woman are arguing over. "Is that what's making the wishes come true?"

The woman quivers and blurts, "It's just harmless white magic! It can't make  _all_  wishes come true!" Sam and Dean glance at each other and back at the woman as she continues to babble. "I swear, nothing malicious can come of it. No harm to self or others." She takes a breath to steady herself and relays her tale. "It truly has been in the family for generations, belonging first to my grandmother's grandmother when she was a little girl in Romania, traveling as a gypsy. She was often cold, hungry. She wished for respite from both of those things. Then, one night, a traveler from another passing caravan taught her a spell to place an aura around one of her belongings. She chose this burner. And she used her wishes to not only warm herself and fill her own stomach, she helped her people survive the harshest winter in their living memory."

The woman trails off, eyes squinting quizzically at the three men before her. "What I don't understand is how you came to know of it. This burner has been been a closely guarded family secret, passed from mother to daughter for five generations. Unless... did one of you fulfill a wish by accident? It takes a very specific -"

"Yeah," Dean says, clearing his throat and breaking eye contact. "Rubbing and wishing. That's kind of a thing a lot of guys do." He rocks back on his heels.

The woman looks startled.

"What he means to say," Sam smoothly picks up the awkwardness. "Is that, yes, an accidental wish was made. And we just need to know if it can be reversed."

"Of course," the woman replies. "Provided the reversal doesn't hurt anyone, it will work the same way the wish was made. By, ah, 'rubbing... and wishing.'" She has regained her previous flirty disposition.

"Right. Thank you." Sam takes Dean's elbow to lead him away from the counter. He glances up at Baby to see if he will follow, but Baby seems content to stare down at the woman. She turns her attention and her saucy smile to him as the brothers dip their heads together and lower their voices. "We don't need it."

"What?" Dean leans back from Sam to see his face better.

"I mean, we don't need the incense burner; we don't need to take it from her. You heard what she said. There's an aura around it. An aura that's pretty big, if you think about it. We were inside of it when you wished Baby human, way out on the opposite side of the road."

"I never said human, though."

"Doesn't matter," Sam shrugs. "That was obviously your intent."

"My intent? No. No, no. My intent was for Baby to be a lot smaller, a lot hotter, and a  _lot_  more female than what we have standing over there, being flirted with by..." Dean looks over his shoulder at the woman who now has a hand reaching across the counter, pressed playfully against Baby's un-moving arm. "By what I would have preferred, actually. She is  _smoking_   _hot._ "

"Dean." Sam's voice brings him back to the conversation. "Tell me you don't like him."

Dean considers for a moment, furrowing his brow. "I dunno, man, he..." A range of emotions flit across Dean's face. "He's a little weird. The constant lotion-rubbing has been a bit much... but okay, yeah. It's been an interesting week. He doesn't suck." Dean points a finger at Sam, "But I still want my car back."

"No arguments," Sam agrees. They break from their quiet chat and turn back to the woman and Baby. "Alright. I guess we'll be heading out."

The woman moves her attention from Baby to the brothers. "Not going to buy anything before you go?" She leans her hands back onto the counter in the same stance she had when they walked in.

Dean spares another look around the store before settling his eyes back on the woman. "From a hippie head shop? Nah, I think we're good." He gives a cursory wave, takes in the other two men with his glance and nods toward the door, turning his wave into a pointed finger as emphasis. "Let's go." He suits his own words. Sam follows immediately, but Baby takes an extra moment.

"Thank you for your time," he booms politely to the woman. Her smile melts from flirtation to appreciation. The sound of his voice makes Dean blink as he pushes the door open  _(ting-ting_ ) and walks out of the air conditioned hush of the building into the blanket of humidity under the sun. Something occurs to him.

"Baby, you were quiet that whole time."

"I was watchin' you work," Baby replies with a shrug of his massive shoulders as the door closes behind him. "Don't get much of a chance to see you do that, but I sure have heard a lot about it. The two of you. You work good together." Dean rubs the back of his neck while Sam clears his throat. Baby grins, "And you never could take a compliment." The grin fades. "Well, now that we know what we need to do, I s'ppose we ought to get to it."

"What?"

"You want your car back, right? Ain't that what you said?" Dean's jaw works silently as he struggles to find a reply. "I been listenin' to your voices all your lives; even when you're whisperin'. I heard everythin' you said in the store. Everythin'."

Guilt clouds Dean's face. "Baby..."

"It's okay, Dean." Baby's deep voice takes on a note of compassion as he places a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I always knew by the way you talked to me that you had a certain expectation of me. Didn't matter. All that did matter, all that does, is that I take care of you as well as you take care of me." Baby lowers he chin to look more directly at Dean. "Have I?"

Dean nods slightly and answers directly, "You have." Baby's grin suddenly means more to him than it has all week. "Now. Let's walk back to the hotel."

Baby drops his hand from Dean's shoulder. "Walk? I thought you'd..."

"We still have two days left of our vacation. I said at the beginning I wi-" Dean glances at the door of Genie's Gifts. "Wanted you to be out on the beach with us. So let's go." As they make their way down the sidewalk, Baby has a spring in his step one would not expect from a man so big.

 

.oOo.

 

The next two days pass much as the first five, with swimming, sand, and sun, though Dean is less awkward with Baby. He allows the sunscreen back rubs with less of a fuss, reasoning that it's no different than waxing Baby when he was a car, but he still declines when Baby offers a full rub down. Yes, Sam did look happy when got one from the ladies that first day, but no thank you, Dean can do it himself.

After checkout on the last day, they spend a couple of hours in their beach chairs, having one more beer in silence as the tide sighs before them. All too soon, it's time to pack the folding chairs into the wagon and don their t-shirts. None of them expect to return to the beach for a long while, if ever. As Sam and Baby start walking, Sam carrying his bag, Baby dragging the wagon behind them, Dean lingers, staring out at the water. It's obvious why it's called the Emerald Coast. Eyes scanning the smooth surface one last time, he hefts his own bag onto his shoulder and turns to follow his brother and friend.

They make the walk all the way back to Genie's Gifts with little talking. They're all in their own heads about what has to happen next. The sun has darkened to a brilliant orange as it glides slowly closer toward the horizon. They all drop their burdens in a pile, and Baby steps down from the curb onto the road. Sam breaks the silence first, extending a hand to Baby. "It's been a pleasure." Baby takes Sam's hand and shakes it firmly.

"All mine," he rumbles. Sam releases Baby's hand and takes a step back. Baby turns to Dean. They stare at each other for a few moments before Dean finally speaks.

"You're not what I expected."

"I know," Baby gives him a somewhat sad half smile.

"You're better." The look of surprise on Baby's face makes the rest of what Dean wants to say even easier. "You're good guy, Baby. Car or human. I've enjoyed my time with you. You're... hell, man, you're family."

"Comin' from you, Dean, that's mighty high praise." Baby reaches his right hand out for Dean, and as Dean steps forward to take it, Baby pulls him into a hug. Their left arms encircle each other roughly. Baby pats Dean's back, "Go on. Say it."

Dean's jaw firms, and he rubs Baby's back. "I wish you were my Impala again," he says through gritted teeth. He feels Baby take a deep breath. In the next moment, Dean's chest is laying across the top of the Impala's roof, left arm extended in front of him, right arm dangling into the open window. Dean lifts up, leaving his left hand on the roof of the car. He gives it another pat before joining Sam to gather their bags.

"What are we gonna do with this wagon?" Sam asks.

Dean shrugs and points at the store as he digs the keys out of his pocket, "Just leave it here for Miss Gypsy Genie. She can sell it or give it away, I don't care. We don't need it." Dean unlocks the trunk of the car and lifts it open. He hesitates before shrugging his bag off his shoulder and into the trunk. Sam follows suit.

"It's just as well we didn't get a case this week. If Baby was so upset about getting  _suits_  out of the trunk..."

"Alright, that's enough." Dean punctuates his statement by closing the trunk. Sam grins crookedly. "Get in the damn car."

As they both climb in and close their doors, Dean makes an observation. "We're about to drive off into the sunset."

"Yeah," replies Sam as he gazes into it. "It's pretty, though, isn't it?"


End file.
